Fearful Symmetry
by labyrinths
Summary: AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.
1. Chapter 1

****Fearful Symmetry****

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.**

* * *

><p><em> What immortal hand or eye <em>

_Could frame thy fearful symmetry?_

* * *

><p>Amy had wanted to be popular since sixth grade. Sadly, she never quite seemed to fit in, what with the social pariahs for friends and the obsession with 80s retro outfits. And she never quite thought she would make it to the top of the food pyramid until motorcycle-riding, wealthy and pampered Charley Brewster paused to glance at her.<p>

Suddenly she was the girlfriend of one of the coolest kids in school. Once she ditched the dorky friends (Ed, her buddy since Kindergarten, was an embarrassment, all scowls and mockery) and applied a judicious amount of makeup to her face, it turned our Amy was no Plain Jane. In a move right out of a John Hughes movie (of _course _she'd watched them), Amy was quite pretty.

And she wasn't about to let her new found social position, her boyfriend, and everything else she'd won, slip away just because Ed insisted on remaining a weirdo.

His latest thing? Claiming her new neighbour was a vampire.

Not that Amy had seen the guy, but the whole idea was just stupid. After being forced to assist him with a futile hunt for vampires – dear God, Ed even carried a vampire killing kit with him – Amy walked back home in a huff, bag pack dangling over her left shoulder.

"Oh, you're so COOL, Amy!" Ed yelled at her as she moved away. "To cool for us, no?"

"You're being stupid, Evil," she muttered.

"I've told you not to..."

"Bye."

Hurrying back home Amy thought of all the years she'd played with Ed and Adam, staging movies in the backyard. The boys were such dorks but she'd had good times. Only...now it was different. She wanted it to be different. She wasn't going to let Ed scare her with his ridiculous stories, make her look like a fool in front of her boyfriend.

Why was Ed so angry? If it had been the other way around she knew he would have given her up in a flash.

She'd outgrown Ed. That's what had happened. He was a spoiled child.

She was _not _a bad friend. She was acting rationally. Adam was not missing. He'd just skipped school or gone on vacation or–

Amy raised her eyes and saw him.

Her mom had been complaining about the mess in the neighbour's front yard, but it was gone. Evidently, he had hauled most of it away. And there he was now, tossing a couple of garbage bags into the trunk of his car.

He didn't look like a vampire. Vampires don't wear cut-off sleeved t-shirts. Or seem that hot.

Like that kind of magazine cover hot.

He raised his head slowly and stared at her.

Amy tightened her grip around the straps of her backpack.

He wiped his hands against his jeans and closed the trunk of the car.

"Hello," he said.

"Um, hi," she said. "You're him, aren't you?"

"Him who?"

_The vampire,_ she thought, feeling silly for even thinking it. It had been funny when she'd thought about it on the way home, before she'd seen him.

Not so funny now as he approached her, sliding his hands into his pockets, eyes fixed on her.

"The guy who bought the house."

"I'm Jerry Dandridge

"Alright."

"What's your name?"

_Don't tell him_, she thought as thought it might give him some sort of power over her.

Now she'd done it. Ed's silly talk had gotten to her.

Amy swallowed, decided to behave like an adult. "Amy."

"Amy Peterson."

"How do you know my last name?"

Had he read her mind? Did vampires really have mind powers?

"Your mom introduced herself a few minutes ago."

He stared at her. He didn't look. He stared. It was freaky the way his eyes fixed on her and his lips curved in what should have been a friendly smile...only it didn't feel friendly.

Amy glanced towards her house, then back at him. She thought she ought to chit-chat a little bit more, but she began sliding back, towards her home. Very quietly.

She had no idea what to say and she kept thinking about what Ed had told her...vampire.

_Shit, control yourself_ , she thought.

"Uh...I've got homework," she mumbled. "Trig."

"Sure," he said.

Amy made it to the door without running.

_Stupid girl_, she thought. _He's just a cute guy._

She turned her head and he was still looking at her with that fixed gaze.

But a second later he had spun around, climbed into his car and driven away.

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

><p>Note: Yeah, I have another fanfic to finish, but I couldn't resist. This shouldn't be too long.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

****Fearful Symmetry****

****By Hedge Labyrinth****

****AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.****

* * *

><p><em>Lo! Death has reared himself a throne<em>

_In a strange city lying alone_

_Far down within the dim West,_

_Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best_

* * *

><p>A vampire. In Vegas. A real, solid vampire. Ed, with his <em>Magic: The Gathering<em> cards and his Peter Vincent website and his silly fixation on superheroes...Ed had been right.

And Amy had never felt so wrong.

She hurried home and it was not only the fear of vampires which gave her speed, there was also the pain of knowing Ed was likely dead.

She hadn't listened. It was too late.

God, who would be next? Was he going to eat her whole high school?

Who the hell do you call when there is a vampire in town?

What time was it? Was mom home?

Amy glanced at the driveway. Her battered, red Plymouth was parked there but there were no signs of her mom's car. Mom had asked her to sell the Plymouth, maybe on eBay, but Amy refused saying it was a classic. Mom said it was a piece of junk. Amy disagreed and they got into a fight whenever the subject was brought up.

Amy knew why her mother hated the car so much: it had belonged to Dad. Dad had left seven years before. He said he'd send for her but it never happened. Amy tried running away when she was fifteen. She hadn't made it to Dad and New York, and had to turn back after only two days on the road. Mom had been very upset.

Amy tried to think Dad still loved her, but she hated listening to his kids–he'd had twins with his new wife–playing in the background.

Mom and Amy had never seen eye to eye and these past few years had pulled them further apart. Her boyfriend, Fred, had transferred to the corporate offices in Canada seven months before and Mom had been keeping the long-distance thing going. Amy had the nagging suspicion that Mom intended to move to Canada to be with Fred. Maybe even marry him.

The thought revolted her and, if they moved to Canada, Amy knew it would be the perfect excuse to get rid of the Plymouth.

But she wasn't willing to give it up so easily.

She rested a hand upon the scratched and dented cherry-red vehicle, feeling suddenly very young and very lost.

"Hey girl."

Amy spun around, holding on to the car for dear life.

"Hi," she sputtered.

"This yours?" Jerry asked, his thumb pointing at the car.

"Yeah."

"Plymouth Fury," he said. "61?"

"'58 Plymouth Fury," she corrected him because that little detail was a matter of some importance. This was a first generation Fury.

"How does it run?"

"Like a dream," and it was true. Sure, it was a bit banged up and could use a new paintjob. The upholstery was patchy. But it could run.

She never felt more free than when she was riding it.

"Doesn't look like much."

"It's a classic," she almost hissed.

She should get inside the house. Hadn't Ed said something about vampires needing an invitation? But she was suddenly afraid he'd do something to the car.

She'd carve him up if he tried it.

"I should–"

"I was meaning to ask if you have some wine. I'd pay for it. I've got a friend coming over and no time to go to the liquor store."

_Apparently vampires do not ask for cups of sugar. Instead, they want liquor. _

"Yeah. Sure," Amy said, wanting to bolt into the house anyway she could. She'd give him the bottle and get him off her property.

Amy stepped inside her kitchen and began to rummage among the cupboards.

"Nice kitchen. Good cabinet work," Jerry said, leaning against the doorway.

Amy gave him a suspicious glance. Ed had been right. He wasn't following her in.

"Aha."

Amy saw the wine, high upon a shelf. She stretched an arm, trying to reach it.

"Do you need help there?"

"No!" Amy said in a half-panic, then trying to smooth her tone. "I'm good."

She stood on her tiptoes, pulled the bottle and held it up.

"It's white."

"That's fine."

She began walking back towards him.

"I'm going to be accused of perverting minors."

Amy blinked, opened her mouth in confusion. "Hu?"

"I'm asking a teenager to give me booze."

"Ha," she replied dryly.

She held out the bottle, then pulled it back. He did not reach for it. It was as though there was an invisible force-field keeping him from entering the kitchen.

Amy felt suddenly giddy. All she had to do was keep herself inside.

_Yeah, you can do it. Become a recluse. Get a college degree online. Buy all your stuff through Amazon, _she thought.

Jerry's eyes seemed suddenly darker, unpleasant, as though he'd guessed what she was thinking. Amy shoved the bottle against his chest, their fingers brushing as he grabbed it.

"You seem like a good kid, Amy," Jerry said, staring down at her. "Most teenagers these days are nothing but annoying, empty-headed, nosy little brats. But I can see you've got some substance. You should keep it up. Don't be led astray by bad influences. It would be a pity if something happened to you."

"I can handle myself."

"Sure you can," he said taking two steps back. "Sure."

#

Charley was trying to feel her up. Unfortunately, Amy was not in the mood for an extended make out session. She kept thinking about the vampire next door.

Was he going to cook someone with the wine? Had she contributed to the unwitting cannibalistic feast of a monster?

"Charley, stop it," she muttered.

Her boyfriend's insisting hand did not pause in its ministrations.

"Charley, I said stop it!"

"Jesus, Amy, give me a break!" Charley yelled, rising from her bed. "We've been going together almost a year and all I always hear is Charlie stop it!"

"Christ," Amy muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and moving towards the window.

She needed air. The room felt stuffy.

"I'm stressed out, Charley. I—"

There was a young woman next door. She was talking with Jerry. Flirting with him. Amy stared in horror.

"What are you looking at?" Charley asked.

Jerry looked up towards her window in than instant. His eyes locked with hers.

Amy pushed Charley back, sent him stumbling to the floor. He almost hit his head against a piece of furniture.

"What the hell!"

"He saw us!"

"What?"

"Jerry, my neighbour," Amy crouched next to the window.

"So what?"

"Oh, he's going to be pissed!"

Amy peeked out from behind the curtains. The woman was stepping into Jerry's house. The door closed behind them.

"No! She's going in with him!"

"And?"

"She can't!"

Charley's face went from confused to angry. He grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the chair.

"Alright. I see how it's going. You've got a thing for Mr. Dude Next Door."

"I've got a—No!"

"You're a bad liar, Amy. Hey, call me when you're over him, OK?"

Charley slammed the door. She heard his heavy footsteps as he went down the stairs.

Amy fell back on the bed, clutching a pillow to her face.

Ugh! How could Charley be so silly? Sure, he was a bit jealous, always had been, but to assume that she had the hots for the—

Was she blushing?

Amy pulled down the pillow and pressed a hand against her warm cheek.

She _was_ blushing.

#

The cops were leaving.

"Assholes," Amy whispered.

She'd phoned them after she heard that blood curling scream. Now they were practically piling into Jerry's car to go look at strippers and eat nachos together. Really. Don't investigate. Believe the dude in the wife-beater flexing his muscles.

_Do vampires work out? Stop it, Amy._

They cops left. So did Jerry. He jumped into his car and drove off.

Amy knew she really shouldn't…I mean, one doesn't just break into a vampire's lair.

Hey, maybe the woman was alive. Maybe she could help her.

Amy put on a hoodie, googled "Pick A Lock" and hurried next door.

**To be continued…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Fearful Symmetry**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.**

* * *

><p><em>I have been one acquainted with the night.<em>

_I have walked out in rain - and back in rain._

_I have outwalked the furthest city light._

_I have looked down the saddest city lane._

_I have passed by the watchman on his beat_

_And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain._

* * *

><p>Amy was still slightly queasy from her ordeal. Her mother – a health nut – had asked her why she looked so haggard that morning. Amy shrugged.<p>

Mom asked if she was drinking enough milk. She told her vitamin D was important for her skin and teenagers often did not get enough sunlight.

_I just saw a woman explode in the sunlight_, she felt like saying, but bit her tongue.

Now Amy was busy browsing pages and pages of vampire lore. She had jolted as many factoids as she could onto her notebook but things were becoming more jumbled by the second. There were too many vampire legends, many often contradictory.

For example, one legend said vampires are obsessed with counting objects. If a person drops a handful of grains on the ground the vampire will feel compelled to count them. Amy guessed that asking for Chinese takeout and then spilling the rice all over the sidewalk wouldn't deter Jerry, but how could she know?

Maybe Peter Vincent might have better solutions.

"Hi," Charley said slipping behind her. "You weren't in class today."

Amy turned off the monitor, hoping Charley had not seen what was on the screen. She didn't have the strength to explain about vampires and risk being considered a nutcase.

"What are you up to?" Charley asked.

"Chilling," Amy replied.

Charley nodded. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I overreacted."

"You think?"

"Well, I was just –"

Charley stopped talking. His eyes were fixed on something on Amy's desk. Amy turned her head.

Her notebook lay open. She had written in big capital letters the name JERRY. To top it off she had circled it furiously in black ink.

"It's not what you think," she began.

"No," Charley interrupted her. "I get it. Look, once you're done crushing all over your next door neighbour come and look for me."

"Charley, he's a shark. A land shark!"

He grabbed his backpack, stomping off.

Amy banged her head against the desk, her fists curled in frustration. Five minutes passed. She raised her head, sighed.

_Just run away, Amy_, she thought.

She had a mental image of herself riding the Plymouth Fury all the way to New York and the idea pleased her for about a minute. Then she remembered the girl who had exploded. She thought of Ed and Adam; both had surely served as snacks for the vampire. She thought of her mom, left behind to fend for herself. She thought of the whole town bled dry and Amy far away. And Jerry standing in the dark, like some bloated tick.

No. She wouldn't allow it.

Peter Vincent. That was the solution. Peter Vincent would know what to do, he could help her kill it.

Amy tore the piece of paper with her scribbles and made it into a tight ball.

#

The girl was undeniably doable. Peter would grant her that. But she was talking about vampires. Real vampires, right here in Vegas.

_Fuck that_.

"Ginger!" he bellowed.

"I'm serious. Will you just look at the pictures?" the girl asked trying to shove them into his hands.

He let them fall over the bar, unwilling to even glance at the images. In this direction lay madness. He needed another drink.

"I've had enough of your crazy talk for one day. Your ten minutes are over."

"Mr. Vincent!"

"Ginger!"

"What?" Ginger asked, her open robe exposing her navel, face crunched up in anger.

"Escort the lady out."

The girl opened her mouth like a fish struggling for its last breath.

"Mr. Vincent, please," the girl said.

Peter looked at her and felt sorry for her. She was young, just a kid. Her eyes were wide with terror. But he couldn't get involved.

"Come here, doll," Ginger said, softly pushing the girl out.

Peter crossed his arms and stood by the window.

Why, oh why, were the pretty ones always trouble?

#

Jerry could not help chuckling one more time. He would have paid to have seen Amy's face when she ran outside with the woman, into the dawn.

The girl was so naïve. Did she really think he would not notice she had stepped into his home, like some Buffy wannabe? He had caught her scent almost the second he walked up the stairs; it was soft and sweet, like a ripe fruit.

Of course he knew she'd come in. Of course he'd let her go.

It would be more fun this way.

Jerry threw his head back and glanced, bored, at the photos and paintings in his small studio.

Amy's hair was the soft, lovely gold that could not be achieved via a bottle. No bleached babe. She reminded him of a Gibson girl, tall and thin and lovely. He tried to picture her in a swan-bill corset, the golden hair tucked into a chignon.

It had been a long time since he'd had a real blond. Vegas was full of fakes. Silicone implants, Botoxed faces, painted heads of hair all in a pathetic exercise to outwit time.

He ran his hands across the typewriter's keys, as gently as any lover. His fingers stopped upon an open book with elaborate black and white illustrations. A Victorian book of fairy tales he'd stolen a century before. The drawing was of "Bluebeard" and Jerry thought Amy would have made an excellent model for this particular story, with the startled face and the blood stained keys in her hands.

What a mouth she had, this one.

What eyes.

He wanted to rip the girl's neck open like china paper.

_Pace yourself_, he thought. _This is a fine wine to be enjoyed. Not cheap beer. _

He could toy with her, yes. But no rough play. Not too much. Bruised fruit leaves a bitter taste on the tongue.

He wondered when she would return. It was inevitable that she would. He was sure he could lure her to his home in some fashion.

But that would involve extra time and effort.

He wanted Amy now.

Which meant taking the initiative. Going to her.

Tonight.

**To be continued…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Fearful Symmetry**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.**

* * *

><p><em>And as softly thou art sleeping <em>

_To thee shall I come creeping _

_And thy life's blood drain away. _

_And so shalt thou be trembling  
><em>

_For thus shall I be kissing _

_And death's threshold thou' it be crossing _

* * *

><p>Amy grabbed the backpack filled with garlic and glanced carefully around before stepping out of the car. The coast was clear. She quickly moved towards her house.<p>

Peter Vincent had been nothing but a big waste of time, a fake who would not help her. On the way back home, determined not to become a vampire's chew toy, she had bought the garlic and filled her water bottle with holy water from a church. Getting crosses and stakes proved more difficult. She could manage neither in the short amount of time she had, so she'd bought construction paper. She could make crosses out of it, like Ed and her did for Halloween. As for the stakes, she guessed a common broom could be chopped into pieces and made into a stake.

Amy nodded to herself, feeling fairly confident that she could take whatever hand the vampire dealt her.

She bounced inside her house, closed the door safely behind her and headed into the living room...where Jerry was sitting, looking very smug and comfortable.

Amy's mom turned around and smiled at her. "Amy, you're late for supper," she said.

Amy's mother did not care if she was late for anything, so Amy guessed the display of maternal confidence was a show for Jerry's sake. Ugh.

"I was at the mall," Amy replied blandly. "What's_ he _doing here?"

"Mr. Dandridge came to pay me back for the wine he borrowed."

"Amy was too good to do that for me," Jerry said. "I just had to pay back the money fast. I didn't want to risk getting her in trouble."

"It's no trouble at all."

They laughed. Amy rolled her eyes.

Great. Her mom had invited a fucking vampire over and was flirting outrageously with him. Why not put a garnish on your throat, mom?

"Your mom was telling me she works in international sales. Gets to travel a lot. And this trip of yours to Canada, when is that one again?"

"I leave –"

"He doesn't need to know that!" Amy yelled.

Both adults looked at her. Amy's mom pressed a hand against her chest, looking embarrassed. "Amy, don't raise your voice. I leave tomorrow. For a week."

"I should have you over when you come back. Both of you. I'll give you the grand tour," Jerry said with a wink.

"I would love that! You must have done so much with the place," Amy's mom cooed.

"Not nearly enough. But there's an unexpected element or two."

"Oh, sounds wonderful."

"Excuse me, I have to go barf," Amy muttered.

"Amy!" her mom yelled.

She stomped up the stairs and heard Jerry yell out: "Be seeing you around Amy!"

"Teenagers," her mother replied.

"Don't worry. I get it. I'll keep a close eye on her while you're gone."

Amy closed the door to her room. She began hanging all the garlic from the windows and diligently cut the construction paper and glued it so she had about twenty crosses, which she also placed on the windows.

Amy's mother opened the door. Without knocking, of course.

Amy raised her head.

"What was that downstairs?"

"Is he gone?" Amy asked.

"Yes. Did you have to be so rude."

"I don't know. Did you have to be so friendly."

Amy's mother looked around the room suspiciously. "Are you going Goth? Because I won't allow you to get a tattoo on your behind. It looks slutty."

"I'm not going Goth, mom."

"Is this going to be like three years ago?"

"Like what?" Amy asked, slowly putting down her scissors.

"Like when you had that nervous breakdown and ran away with my car."

Amy opened her mouth in shock. "The Fury is my car! You hate it!"

"It's a piece of trash, Amy. Anyway, that's not the point. Look, I've been talking to Fred and he thinks we ought to move to Quebec with him."

"I don't speak French."

"You'd learn. Anyway, that Fury is worth a few thousand dollars and Jerry says he'd be happy to take it off our hands. And I think it would be excellent money for your college fund."

"Over my dead body are you giving my car to _that thing_!"

"What are you talking about?"

"He's a monster!"

Amy's mother gripped the door handle and frowned, staring at her. "I'm not sure what drugs you are on or what attention hogging stunt you are trying to pull, but you have to quit this attitude."

"Attention hogging? I'm not the attention whore."

"I can't do this," Amy's mom said throwing her hands in the air. "I have an early flight tomorrow morning. I'll talk to you when I get back."

"Maybe I won't be here!" Amy yelled as the door slammed in her face. "Maybe Jerry will have carved me into a roast!"

_Not that you'd care_ , she told herself.

#

Amy rolled around and opened her eyes. She had intended to stand watch all night long but she must have fallen asleep. The alarm clock read two a.m. She blinked.

Amy had to go pee. Sadly, the architect who designed the house did not think of the danger of vampires and placed the bathroom on the other end of the hallway.

Amy grabbed her bottle with the holy water and clutched it all the way to the bathroom. On the way back she opened her mother's door a crack. The woman was snoring loudly. She took sleeping pills and could sleep through a train wreck.

Amy rested her head against the door frame for a minute, then walked back into her room. She tossed the water bottle onto the bed feeling safe and cozy with all the garlic and the crosses on the windows.

_Try to get in here_ , she thought.

"Hey, girl."

Amy whirled around. Jerry, already inside her room, lunged forward, grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the wall.

"I can't say I agree with the decor," he told her, tilting his head a little and smiling.

Amy tried to speak, but only a muffled, choking sound came out.

"The crosses? Yeah. You've got to have faith, Amy. It doesn't work otherwise. I guess you didn't read that section in _Vampire Hunting for Dummies_, hu?"

Amy couldn't touch the floor. She kicked in the air, trying to hit him in the balls, but couldn't reach him.

"I thought we understood ourselves, Amy. I thought you were going to be a good girl. But you've been spying on me. Sending the cops to my house. Trying to steal my dinner," he clucked his tongue and shook his head. "You've been a very naughty girl."

"Ackkkk!"

"Shhh," he said raising a finger to his lips. "We wouldn't want to wake your mother, would we? Then I'd have to kill both of you."

With his free hand he brushed away the hair covering her eyes, then ran his fingers down her face, settling at the hollow of her throat.

Amy thought he was about to bite her.

And then he spun her around and slammed her down on her desk, so that she was sitting on it. He wedged her legs open, settling between them and leaned down to kiss her.

It all happened so fast all Amy could do was gasp.

One minute he was trying to kill her and the next his tongue was in her mouth, coaxing her into a kiss.

She almost did kiss him back – that was the state of shock she was in – before she turned her face.

"Stop it!" she said.

He didn't, kissing her throat, his hands tugging at her t-shirt.

All those years of her virginity and she was about to be ravished in five seconds flat by a monster. It was incredibly unfair.

"STOP IT!"

Shockingly he did, though he still remained very close – too close – to her, their bodies pressed against each other.

"What's wrong, beautiful?" he asked.

Amy eyed the scissors she had been using to cut the crosses. They were very close to her fingers. If she could only stretch...

"Uh...I'm not ready for this."

In her blurry, terrified state, Amy had just repeated the exact same thing she told Charley whenever his petting got too heavy.

_Lame_ , she thought.

Jerry frowned, then slowly his expression changed. He laughed with unbridled mirth and Amy's cheeks grew a dark, deep scarlet.

"You are kidding, right? Noooo," he said. "Virgin?"

"You don't have to laugh about it!"

"I'm sorry. It's just too much of a cliche, don't you think?"

_Cliche yourself, motherfucker_ , she thought. He threw back his head for another serving of laughs and she slammed the scissors into his throat. Blood poured furiously and he stumbled back.

Amy jumped off from the desk and onto the bed, clutching her water bottle.

Jerry turned around. His eyes were pits of darkness. He pulled the scissors and smiled at her crookedly.

"That's not going to work," he informed her.

"Yeah, how about you drink some holy water!"

She splashed it in his face. He began to scream. Rivulets of smoke rose in the air, burning him like acid. Amy grabbed her car keys and rushed down the stairs.

She jumped into the Fury and, unlike in horror movies, it started at once. She hurried away, towards the highway.

Soon enough she saw a car in her rear view mirror, heading fast towards her.

_Jerry. _

Amy kept her hands steady on the wheel, her eyes on highway.

The car was now next to her, on the left. She could see Jerry's satisfied face, already healing, thinking he'd caught up with her.

Amy smiled back.

She hit the accelerator and made a sharp turn to the left with the effect that Jerry, who had been edging towards her in an attempt to hit her car, flew towards the right and down a desert slope.

Amy sped away, towards the lights of Las Vegas.

_Junk car, _ my ass, she thought, smug with satisfaction.

The ring of her cellphone startled Amy back into fear. She pulled it out and pressed a key, expecting Charley or her mother.

It was Peter Vincent.

"Hey, sugar, do you still want to learn about vampires? Head over here now," he said.

"Do I ever," Amy muttered.

The car roared down the highway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Fearful Symmetry**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.**

* * *

><p><em>Tie your heart at night to mine, love,<em>

_and both will defeat the darkness_

_like twin drums beating in the forest_

_against the heavy wall of wet leaves._

* * *

><p>Ginger was pissed, asking what was up with the blond visiting at this time of the night.<p>

"Go watch your TiVo," he said. "I've got things to talk about with her."

"Yeah, whatcha gonna talk about, Pete?" she asked, giving Amy a scorching look. "Warning: he can't keep it up, honey."

"Out of here," Peter said, shoving the woman out the door.

"Fucking groupie!"

Ginger stormed off. Amy watched the woman walk away and turned towards him, looking mortified. Peter felt even more mortified after being declared impotent in front of the attractive young woman. _It's not true_, he felt like saying. Maybe even calling some former conquests and have them testify about his staying power, but now he was just being silly and she hadn't come for any hanky-panky.

"I'm sorry if I've upset your girlfriend."

"Ginger's not my girlfriend," Peter muttered. "Anyway, we're not here to talk about her. I saw your pictures."

"And?"

"I recognized the insignia," he said. "It's from a branch that originates in the Mediterranean. They sleep in the earth."

"What do you mean branch?"

"Not all vampires are the same," Peter replied. "This is why there's all this confusion about what works and what not. Hey, do you want a drink? I really need a drink."

He stepped towards the bar, looking for a couple of glasses. The girl frowned, placing both hands on the bar.

"I'd rather get to the point, thank you. The vampire tried to kill me in my own bedroom tonight so I'm a bit pressed for time, I figure."

"He tried to kill you at home?" Peter asked in wonder. "Wow, it's worse than I thought."

"So, what else?"

"Mmm," Peter said tossing a handful of ice into his glass and pouring himself some vodka. "They're tribal, this kind. They nest all together."

"Lots of people have been disappearing. Could he be turning them all?"

"Could be. Replenishing his ranks."

"How do I kill him?"

"You don't."

The girl gave him a suspicious look as he shoved a drink into her hands. She set it down without even sipping it.

"You survive," Peter said. "If you're lucky. I say you run away."

"He killed my friends."

"The more reason to run away."

"I'm not running from him."

Peter sat down in one of the uncomfortable leather chairs, swinging a leg over the side of it. The girl followed him, sitting across the way from him.

"What works with his kind?"

"Fire. Decapitation. Stake through the heart. That is a toughie. But it doesn't matter," Peter said. "You'll never get close enough to kill him."

"I can get close enough," she said, trailing off and staring at the fireplace.

Hell, yeah. Well if he was a vampire he'd sure let _her _get close. The thin quality of the t-shirt Amy was wearing allowed Peter to get a good idea of what those breasts looked like and he was betting they were Grade A material.

"Hmmm," Peter said. "Well, if that's all..."

"Fire then," she said. "I've been in his house. There are no vampires on the ground or upper floors. That leaves the basement. And it explains all that rubble he was hauling out. He's got his vampire gang in the basement."

"Good for him."

"We can set fire to the basement."

"Ha! And he'll let you?"

Amy drummed her fingers against her jeans. "He will if we lure him out. If he's distracted. We burn the house down while he's busy and then we kill him."

"Busy with what, exactly?" Peter asked, his arm frozen in mid-air, the drink not reaching his lips because he could guess what the girl was going on about.

"He's not going to expect two people. He'll expect only me. He'll be busy with...ah, me."

"No, no, no," Peter said shaking his hands. "Not the Nosferatu Gambit."

"The what?"

"_Nosferatu_. 1922."

The girl stared at him with a blank face. Youth these days. Of course she wouldn't get the reference to the German expressionist film. All she probably knew was _Twilight_.

"A woman pure in heart must willingly give her blood to a vampire, so that he loses track of time until the cock's first crowing."

"That works?"

"Baby, you don't want no vampire biting you. You specially don't want a vampire feeding you his blood," Peter said with a chuckle. "Anyway, that's nuts!"

"OK, he won't bite me. I'll just keep him busy while you burn the house, then as soon as it's on fire we stick a stake through his heart. Or you lop his head off."

"Have you ever _tried_ cutting off someone's head? Specially a vampire? Anyway, how are you going to keep him busy?"

"I'll cook him an omelette," Amy said rolling her eyes. "What do you think? He seemed to like kissing me."

Peter spit out the vodka he just swallowed. The alcohol fell into the fire, making the flames bounce higher up in the air. He looked at the girl in horror.

"You are hardcore," he muttered.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"No!"

"We'll, I'll be the end of him or he'll be the end of me," Amy said.

What the hell? Had she heard nothing he'd said? Vampires were very, very dangerous. This one...if it was the one he thought it was, was doubly dangerous.

Peter shuddered at the memory.

" Amy, the lady in _Nosferatu _gets killed."

"Thanks," she said as she stood up. "I needed the pick me up."

#

Now that was annoying. Jerry paced in his studio, circling like an animal in a cage. It was morning. Amy had not returned home yet.

Stubborn creature. She was out, plotting his demise.

But he was old and wise. And no pretty little thing was going to stop him.

He recalled the splash of the holy water on his face and the bold swerving of her car on the highway. It brought a half-smile to his face.

It was nice to meet someone who put up a fight. So many people just went with the "please don't kill me" and "dear God, let me go", then fell limp with fear.

And really, that she would be an innocent on top of everything. These days. In Vegas. At that age. With that body.

It was a minor crime, actually.

Jerry recalled the days when they'd send a virgin on a pure white stallion, which had not yet mated, through the cemetery. The horse would not step over the grave of the vampire, thus marking it for the vampire killers.

Actually, it didn't work, but Jerry found the practice quaint and amusing. He thought of garlands of garlic flower, thistles, wild roses, all the methods to combat him.

Crosses of tar and pitch painted on doors and windows. Running. He was always running for his life. The hunters changed, their techniques were modified but for him some things never changed. There was always a brave hunter who ventured out into the night, torch in hand, ready to save all the stupid lambs from the slaughter.

The difference was that the hunters generally did not charm him as much. Heroes were so boring, so blah. Single note items, even worse than the squirming victims with their dumb eyes. Heroes only knew to start yelling "fiend" and "creature of the night", brandishing a Bible at him with no finesse.

Heroes were dull.

Heroes did not interest him. Yet Jerry wanted this one, badly. He didn't enjoy that feeling. Desire could cloud one's instincts. And he lived on his instincts.

"Amy Peterson," he whispered.

His lids were getting heavy. He should sleep. Nightfall would come soon and then he could search for the girl.

**To be continued ...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Fearful Symmetry**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.**

* * *

><p><em>I met a lady in the meads,<br>Full beautiful, a fairy's child;  
>Her hair was long, her foot was light,<br>And her eyes were wild._

_I made a garland for her head,_  
><em>And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;<em>  
><em>She look'd at me as she did love,<em>  
><em>And made sweet moan.<em>

* * *

><p>Three cans full of gasoline. A crossbow. A silver crucifix around her neck. A gun. Amy made an inventory of the tools she had as she parked the car. She would carry the crossbow inside, but the gasoline she thought best to leave in the trunk of the car. She could haul it faster into Jerry's house that way.<p>

Amy opened the car door and stepped out. She grabbed the crossbow and the gun.

"What, you're getting the party started without me?"

Amy looked up. Peter Vincent, dressed in a long, dark coat, was standing in her driveway.

"I thought you said you weren't coming."

"Well, I changed my mind."

"I'm sorry I called you a–"

"No, you're right. I'm a coward. I just don't think I'd be able to live myself if I let you die," he clapped his hands together. "What's the plan?"

"You burn the house. Then we kill him. I've got gasoline–"

Peter opened his coat, showing her guns strapped at the hips and...

"Dynamite," he said.

Several sticks of it, actually. Sticking out from his interior coat pockets. Amy blinked, surprised.

"Where did you get that?"

"eBay," Peter said, sounding smug. "I also got a stake gun."

He held the hefty weapon up for her to see. Amy wasn't sure it could shoot anything, much less stakes, but she nodded just the same.

"Best of all: special for you."

He handed her what looked like a heavy, rusty nail. Amy did not understand. She shook her head.

"What's this for?"

"Crucifixion nail. It should hurt like a bitch."

"I might have preferred another stake gun," Amy told him, trying to imagine how exactly she was supposed to stick that into Jerry's body.

"There's only one stake gun," he said patting it. "It's mine."

"Well, thanks anyway," Amy said, putting the nail in her pocket.

"It's al–"

" I mean it ," she said, genuinely touched.

Peter nodded. Amy stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. He rubbed his face in the spot where her lips had touched him.

"That's for luck," she said.

"How about you give me a real smacker once we're doing with his, hu?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Maybe I can cop a feel, too."

Amy rolled her eyes. Horny vampires _and_ horny vampire slayers. That was Vegas for you.

"Too much, hu?" Peter asked, looking crestfallen.

"Yup," Amy replied. "Come on, help me carry the bolts to my bedroom."

She grabbed the crossbow herself and Peter followed her.

#

For the third time Amy clutched the crossbow and held it up. She had heard something. She was sure of it. But nothing happened. It was just the wind outside. Who knew her own bedroom could look so damn spooky once night fell? She had turned on all the lights, but she still stared wearily at the shadows.

The nail had been tucked beneath her pillow. The cellphone – Peter would call once he got the dynamite going, signaling the start of phase two – lay on the night stand by the bed. The bolts rested next to her, on the bed, where she sat, legs crossed. The gun was in her backpack.

She wore a short dress and a gray sweater on top. Plus the cross at her breast and running shoes. She had briefly considered a more elaborate outfit, but decided against it when she realized it looked more like she was going on a date than facing an enemy. Her hair fell to her shoulders, unbound.

She was ready, but the damn wind was blowing and the shadows seemed to be growing. A life size poster of a Stormtrooper – Ed's birthday gift to her when she was twelve – stared at Amy. That was the year they entered the Lego contest and made a giant Death Star.

Amy sniffled at the memory of Ed and Adam. She'd been horrible to them, she knew that now. As soon as her skin cleared and Charley gave her a smile, she'd ditched them like yesterday's garbage. And then a vampire ate them.

But he was not going to eat any more kids.

The door creaked and swung open slowly.

Amy held up the crossbow.

"Hey," Jerry said, leaning on the doorway, his demeanor so relaxed and casual you might have thought a weapon was not pointed directly at his chest. "You busy?"

"What do you think?" she asked, gritting her teeth.

"I don't know," he said stepping inside.

One. Two steps.

"That's far enough," she said. "I'll shoot you."

"Promise?"

Three steps. Amy pressed the trigger. The bolt flew through the air, right on target...and he dodged it; caught it in the air with one hand. He held the bolt up for her to see.

"I like it. Very Medieval," he said. "Sadly, not very effective."

Amy prepared to shoot again, but he lounged at her so quickly she had no time to press the trigger. He crushed her against the mattress, snatching the crossbow from her hands and tearing it in two. The bolts rolled off the bed, a clatter of wood and metal.

Seeing Jerry like that, she realized for the first time the true strength he possessed and felt daggers of fear in her belly.

"Get off!"

"Make me."

Amy clutched the little crucifix, tugging at the chain until the links snapped and she was able to flash it before his eyes.

Jerry winced, but only a little, and his hand fell upon the crucifix, bending it out of shape. "I told you: you need faith."

Amy watched as the crucifix became a misshapen S and he tossed it to the floor.

"Amy, Amy, Amy," he said, shaking his head. "I think you've bitten more than you can chew."

Amy squirmed beneath him, but he was heavy and determined to hold her in place.

_Calm down_ , she thought. _Remember the plan. Just keep him distracted. Peter should be over soon. _

Amy decided to play possum. She went limp against Jerry, her breath coming out in a shivering sigh.

"Are you scared yet?" he whispered to her ear.

Amy squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm not frightened," she told him.

"Lets see...oh, you're telling the truth."

Amy snapped her eyes open and stared at him, frowning.

"I can hear your heart beating," he said, a hand flying across her chest. "I can hear the blood moving through your veins, but..."

The same hand snaked down, pulling the hem of her skirt up, just an inch. His hand resting a second upon her thigh. "...it's not fear," he concluded in a low voice.

"Wh-what?" Amy couldn't help but stammer.

He released her and sat up. Amy sat up, too, mimicking him. They stared at each other. He leaned forward and Amy raised a hand.

"Don't," she said.

"Can you be specific?"

"Whatever you're thinking, it's a 'no.'"

"A bit restrictive, wouldn't you say?" he replied, a hand falling upon her knee.

Amy's eyes opened wide as the hand traced a spidery trail towards her hips. She swatted it and slapped him, hard.

Jerry touched his cheek, frowning. "That's not nice."

"I'll do it again if you try–"

"Do it," he growled, grabbing her face between his hands and kissing her.

Amy did not kiss him back.

Correction. She did not kiss him back at first. But he was so damn insistent and his kiss was masterful, knowing. Not the sloppy, wet kisses of her boyfriend.

_Charley. _ But Charley had forsaken her and, anyway, he'd been only a boy. Not a man.

_Since when had she upgraded Jerry from monster to man? _

Flushed, Amy managed to pull back and she was more afraid now than ever before, blind, bright terror mixing with desire.

"What?" Jerry cooed in her ear.

"I don't want this," she said.

His eyebrows shot up, a big smile plastered upon his face.

"Don't lie to me. It doesn't suit you. And what's this thing?" he said as he took off her sweater, baring her arms, tossing it onto the floor. "Lets look at you."

He did. Look. Blatantly stared in a way that made Amy feel as though she were completely naked even though the dress was modest. It made her feel wanton even though she'd hardly done a thing, except maybe babble a stupidity or two.

"Very nice," he said as he bent her leg and began unlacing her running shoes.

Amy stared, half in shock, half in curiosity, as he took off the shoes and slipped off the socks. He did it as it were the most natural thing in the world. As though a vampire on her bed was an ordinary thing and the removal of her footwear a banal, everyday event.

He grabbed the skirt of her dress and Amy did raise her voice at that.

"That's about enough," she said.

"I don't think so."

_Where the hell was Peter? Why hadn't he called?_

"Well...I _do _think so...and seeing as these are my clothes..."

"Too many clothes."

"You are not..."

"Let me kiss you."

It was the way he said it. The 'let me' and the way he looked at her, all signs of mirth gone from his face. He looked very serious, oddly quiet and Amy had no idea what else to do, what to say, so she nodded.

The kiss was softer, it lingered and Amy pulled herself against him, her hands raised tentatively and her fingers tangling with his hair.

He pulled back.

"It could be like a dream," he told her, his voice low. "You just need a taste."

He cut his finger with one of his nails, drawing blood.

Peter had warned her about blood. But Amy was having a hard time remembering anything Peter had said just this second.

Jerry brushed his fingers upon his lips, staining them crimson and pressed his mouth to her. She tasted the blood. It was like an arrow had struck her. Like a lightning bolt cleaving her. It made Amy gasp and shiver. A delicious feeling coursed through her body and she felt more alive than ever before, as though a gauze had been lifted from her eyes and she could finally see clearly. The pressure of his arms made her delirious with desire and suddenly her hands were not quick enough to pull the dress up above her head.

She wanted to feel him with every inch of her body.

He grabbed her by the waist and buried her upon the bed.

"I am giving you everything I am," he told her.

Amy bobbed her head, without understanding. Understanding had fled.

His mouth slammed down upon hers. The taste of the blood, again, made her dizzy, her limbs grew languid.

A flash of red. She saw a man... Jerry. He wore a high waisted jacket, his hair slicked back. He stood by a car. It looked old. Something from a 1920s movie. Then another flash and Jerry had a derby hat on. He swung a cane as he dismounted from a carriage. A third flash and he had a cocked hat with an ostrich fringe, a black cravat at his throat. The fourth flash and she saw Jerry upon slick, wet pavement stones as he twitched and shivered, blood flowing freely and mixing with the dirty water of some European alley.

She gasped.

"I am giving you a choice," he said. "Something I never had. What will it be?"

_No_, said the reasonable Amy, struggling somewhere in a corner of her head. But another Amy disagreed.

"Yes," she whispered.

He threw his head back and bit into her neck.

Amy thought she would scream...and a scream did echo through the night. Only it wasn't her scream.

_Peter._

Amy turned her face, looking at the quiet cellphone.

"Don't worry. He's not going to interrupt us," Jerry said, a lazy smile upon his lips.

"What?"

"You thought I wouldn't figure it out? Peter's meeting a friend of mine right about now," Jerry said, pleasantly. "Don't worry. He won't suffer...much."

It was a trap! Someone had been waiting for Peter. Shit!

The thought sobered her like a bucket of water. She struggled to get up, but he was still on top of her and not budging.

"Forget about him."

"No!"

"You're not leaving this bedroom now."

Amy's hair was splayed upon the pillow, she was wearing only her underwear and there was an amorous vampire inches from her. Meanwhile, her fellow vampire killer was being mangled next door.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

Jerry raised his arms as he took off his shirt.

Amy's hand reached under the pillow.

When he swooped down for another kiss, she buried the nail in his head.

He rolled on the floor, twitching, kicking and howling in pain. Then the jerky movements stopped and he was still.

Amy tried to catch her breath and stared at Jerry. Was he dead?

There was no time to find out. Peter needed her.

Amy put on her sweater. She didn't even bother with pants or shoes. She grabbed the backpack with the gun inside and ran down the stairs two at a time, praying to God she was not too late.

**To be continued...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Fearful Symmetry**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.**

* * *

><p><em>I had a dream, which was not all a dream.<em>

_The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars_

_Did wander darkling in the eternal space,_

_Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth_

_Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;_

* * *

><p>Peter whistled as he finished emptying the second gas can across the kitchen. Amy had been right. There were no signs of vampires on the upper floors. He had stopped in Jerry's studio to look at some of his stuff: the ancient pictures, the old books. He wished he could scoop some of the antiques out with him, they might make a nice addition to his collection, but there was no time for such things.<p>

Now Peter approached the door leading to what would surely be the basement and he paused. He wasn't going to go down there. Peter carefully opened the door and placed a gas can on the top steps.

Now all he had to do was leave the dynamite on top, light it and…

"Peter Vincent, vampire killer."

Peter turned slowly.

A scrawny teenager with glasses looked at him. He didn't seem like much…except for the fangs.

Yikes.

"I'm such a fan," the kid said, moving forward.

"Yeah? Want an autograph?" Peter asked and gleefully raised the stake gun.

It sputtered and didn't fire. Peter starred at the useless weapon.

"Motherfucker," he whispered, tossing it to the floor.

"Oh, too baaaad," said the teenager, lunging at him.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Peter ran away from the basement, trying to make it to the hallway. The kid leapt up on the ceiling, like a damn gecko, and dropped in front of him, blocking his path.

"I've got back up," he warned the kid.

"Oh, you mean Amy," the boy said, shrugging. "I'm afraid she's got a previous engagement."

The kid pounced on him. They rolled on the floor. The scrawny bastard weighed a ton and had razor sharp nails which dug into Peter's chest. Peter reached for the stake gun, slamming it against the kid's head.

"Ouch," muttered the teenager, touching his forehead. "That hurt!"

Peter tried to scramble to his feet, but the kid pulled him by the legs and started to drag him towards the basement. Peter kicked him. Or attempted to kick him. When that didn't have any effect he tossed a stake at his head, then another.

"Just stay still, will ya?" the kid asked, opening the basement door.

"Ungh!"

Peter threw a small pocket knife. It lodged in the kid's arm. The kid relaxed his grip and Peter smiled, feeling a tad victorious.

That is until the vampire opened his mouth wide, showing an impressive array of teeth, and threw him against the floor, intending to chomp on his neck.

Peter twisted his head away and felt the teeth biting into thin air. He squirmed, evading the teeth a second time by a millimeter. Then a third.

He couldn't possibly keep doing this forever.

"Get away from him, Ed!"

Peter and Ed both raised their heads. Amy was standing by the entrance, a gun in her hands. She wore a gray sweater and white cotton briefs.

He had never been so happy to see a half-naked woman in his life.

"It's so good of you to join us, Amy," Ed said, standing up and slamming his foot on Peter's chest. "It's like an old-time sleepover, hu?"

"Leave him alone. If you've got a beef, you have it with me."

"If I have a beef?" Ed asked incredulous. "Yeah, I have an issue or two."

He dug the heel of his shoe into Peter's chest, making him gasp for air.

"First of all you betray your friend of a lifetime. For what, Amy? Your stupid boyfriend? Then you don't believe me when I tell you Adam's been killed. Finally, you let the vampire get to me. You could have saved me, Amy."

"I'm so sorry, Ed," she whispered.

"Yeah, well, things have changed around here. I'm a vampire now. I'm strong. No one's ever going to push me around again. I can have anything I want. I can be at the top of the damn food pyramid. I'm going to have the whole high school for dinner. You know who's first on the menu? Charley. Yeah. Followed by those pot-head assholes who liked to dump me in the garbage bin."

"Ed, just…let him go."

"No dice. He dies first."

Ed raised a sharp, clawed hand. He was aiming for Peter's face. Peter winced.

The bullets tore through the boy's chest. One, two, three.

Ed stumbled back, a grin firmly on his face.

"Bullets don't kill vampires," he informed them.

"Eat a stake!" Peter yelled latching onto the stake gun, giving it a good whack with the back of his hand and pulling the trigger.

It launched. Ed's complacent face became panicky. He tried to dodge it, but the stake lodged in his chest.

The teenager slammed against the basement door, pinned like a hideous butterfly.

"Oh, Ed," Amy said pressing a hand against her face and reaching towards him.

"It's alright, Amy," the boy whispered before disintegrating into a heap of ashes.

Amy fell to her knees, the gun limp between her hands. Peter felt the sweat beads against his brow.

Then he heard a noise coming from the bottom of the staircase. A soft shuffling. He moved the door open with his shoe. Dark silhouettes were coming up the stairs.

"Fuckers!" he yelled, slamming the door shut. "My lighter."

He patted his jacket and pulled the lighter out, grabbed the bundle of dynamite he had been carrying with him and placed it by the door, lighting the wick.

"We've got to run," he said, pulling Amy by the elbow.

They rushed down the hallway, skidding by the kitchen and almost falling, then storming out the front door. They turned to look behind them. The street was eerily quiet.

"You think it worked?" whispered Amy.

BOOM.

The house burst into flames, bits of glass bounced against the pavement, wood flew up into the air. Peter and Amy threw themselves to the ground, rolling across the floor. The alarm of a car went off down the street.

"It worked," Peter said congenially, helping her up to her feet. "Where's your vampire?"

"I knocked him out. I don't know if he's—"

"Not dead," Peter said because he had just seen an ugly, clawed hand splayed upon the glass of a second-story window.

"Then we have to…Ugh," Amy doubled over herself, almost falling to her knees.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I don't feel too well."

She seemed very pale. Her lips were gray. Peter brushed the hair away from her face and saw the tell-tale marks upon her neck.

"He bit you," he said.

"Just a litt…ack."

"The car keys," he said, pointing to the red car in the driveway.

"I'm the only one who drives the Fury."

"Not today, you don't," he said, reaching into her sweater pockets and pulling out the keychain.

He shoved Amy into the passenger's seat and jumped into the car.

"Peter, what are we doing?" she asked, her voice faint.

"We're getting out of here," he said firmly.

"I can take it. We must finish…" she croaked. "Ugh!"

Amy promptly threw up all over herself. Peter wrinkled his nose and grabbed the wheel, spinning it to the left and pressing on the accelerator. The car revved into life.

"We're heading back to my place," he said. "We can't take him here."

"Peter, what's happening?"

"You're turning," he said. "I need a cigarette. Don't you have a cigarette?"

"I don't smoke."

He thrust a hand in his pockets, producing a crumpled box and the lighter. He tossed them to Amy and they fell on her lap. She stared at them.

"Light me," he said. "I'm going to need a lot of smokes to get through this night."

**To be continued…**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>So, should Peter save Amy? Or is she destined to join Jerry as a creature of the night? This AU should conclude in about two or three more chapters.**  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Fearful Symmetry**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.**

* * *

><p><em>Sleep brings no rest to me;<em>

_The shadows of the dead_

_My wakening eyes may never see_

_Surround my bed_

* * *

><p>"Oh, no. You're not bringing no od'ing junkie hooker to this place," Ginger said, wagging her finger at him.<p>

Peter propped Amy up against his shoulder. He guessed what he must look like, dragging a girl in her panties and a sweater into the penthouse, but _please_.

"This is a very serious thing and she's not od'ing," Peter said.

"Tripping, whatever."

"Ginger, I can't explain right now…"

"Try me."

Peter took a deep breath. "OK. Amy and I have been battling an ancient vampire. We just torched his nest. He's coming after us right about now. Amy is turning into a vampire herself and I need to do something about it. How's that?"

Ginger's face remained impassive. She gave him a hard, cold slap.

"You can role-play by yourself, asshole. I'm leaving."

"Ginger!"

Too late. She was muttering to herself in Spanish. _Pinche pendejo imbecil_ echoed across the hallways. She was packing her bags. Peter did not have time to deal with that. He scooped Amy up in his arms and carried her to the bathroom.

"Hey Peter, am I dying?" she asked dreamily as he set her in the bathtub and opened the tap.

"Not if I can help it. Wake up, beauty queen!" he said splashing her face with cold water. "That's my girl. Arms up."

She raised her arms and Peter pulled off the dirty sweater and unclasped the bra. Just as he'd expected. Grade A breasts. He only wished he had been privy to them at a better occasion. This really wasn't sexy time.

"I'll clean you up and then I can fix you a drink. You smell like barf."

"Peter, I'm not twenty-one yet."

"It's not that kind of drink. Not really," he said, trying to recall all the pieces of arcana he had read through the years.

Amy's head lolled and her eyes closed. He towelled her dry and walked her to his bedroom. Then he went rummaging in Ginger's closet for an outfit. She had dashed out of the apartment, but not without filling her bags with a bunch of clothes. Peter simply grabbed one of the outfit's that remained on the hangers, the one closest to his hand.

Amy had slipped down onto the floor and he had to stuff her into the dress. It was a flowing, delicate white outfit which reached her ankles, complete with a clasp at the neck and a generous slice of bosom. Amy looked like the heroine of a Gothic novel.

"Hu?" Amy said, eyes half-open, looking down at herself. "Whatisthis?"

"One of Ginger's costumes for the show."

"I look like Dracula's bride."

"Yeah, well, no time to shop at the Gap," Peter said pulling her up and walking her to the living room. "Wait here."

He rushed to his safe, took out a bunch of items and carried them back to the living room. Amy's eyes were closed. Her face looked paler. Her teeth more elongated.

Peter grabbed a communion wafer and a head of garlic. He threw them into a blender. He needed night shade. Technically paprika belonged to the same species, Solanaceae. He shrugged, sprinkled a generous amount of paprika into the blender. A dash of this, a dash of that. Now, booze. What type of booze was it? He couldn't recall and there was no time to go browsing through his library. Peter dumped both brandy and vodka into the blender. He pressed a button and watched the mixture turn an ugly brown color.

"Ugh," he said as he poured the sludge into a glass.

_Well, if it doesn't kill her_…

"Hey, drink this," he said shoving the glass into her hands.

Amy tried to clasp the glass, but her fingers went limp.

Christ almighty. He grabbed the girl, opened her mouth, and poured the drink down her throat as though they were kids on a very wild Spring Break.

Amy coughed, but kept the liquor down. He held her in his arms when she began to tremble, her whole body convulsing.

Her eyes popped open and she stared at him.

"What…what did you do?"

"How do you feel?"

"Better," she said, touching her head. "I can think straight. I don't feel sleepy."

"Good," he said. "Just an old recipe. It doesn't stop you from turning into a vampire, but it delays the transformation."

"For how long?"

"A few hours. But that's all we need. We need to kill Jerry before sundown. If we do, the victim he turned during night will become human again. If we don't succeed tonight…well, it'll be a permanent condition."

Well, if the stories were true. He hadn't really tried the empirical method with this thing. He decided not to mention that.

"Shit!"

"Shit, yeah." Peter said nodding. "What the hell were you thinking, letting him bite you?"

"I did…It was weird. He did something to me with his blood," she said shaking her head.

Peter's jaw dropped open. Amy frowned, staring at him.

"He fed you his blood?" he asked, his voice rising with each word.

"Just a tiny bit."

"Mother Mary," Peter said jumping to his feet. "Jesus Christ and Mother Mary."

"Can you talk to me and not pace?"

"Not pace? It's a…bloody psychic connection. Bloody major thing."

"Why? Why?" Amy asked spreading her arms open in confusion.

"Look," he said kneeling next to her, his hands upon hers. "A vampire of his type normally makes thralls. It's sort of the same thing as a vampire, but weaker. Easy to control. Maaaster, Renfield, blah, blah. They're slaves, alright? Easy to make."

"Uh uh."

"When a vampire feeds his own blood to his victims and does not drain them alive, he sires a vampire. A sired vampire is much stronger than a thrall. It shares all the powers of the original vampire. It's not a slave. It has independent thought and an independent will. They don't make a lot of them because it takes a big chunk out of a vampire. Amy, you're very dangerous."

"Peter, I'm a high school senior!"

"A high school senior halfway to becoming a great white shark."

Amy fell back against the chair she was sitting on. She covered her eyes with her arm. Peter did not say a thing. He let her stay like that for a few minutes.

Finally she pulled her arm down and looked at him. "What do we do?"

"He's going to come for you and when he does I'm going to kill him. I've got a whole arsenal of weapons here."

"What's my weapon?"

Peter bit his lip. "None."

"None? What's that supposed to mean?" Amy asked, already sounding outraged.

"Listen. I have a panic room. It's…you know, I'm a bit paranoid. Anyway, you get inside the panic room when Jerry arrives and you stay there, alright? Don't come out for any reason."

"Two people can fight better than one."

"Yeah. Sadly, you're not going to want to fight _with_ me."

"Why not? I saved your life!"

"I appreciate it. But when you see that guy, you're going to want to be with him. Psychic connection. Trust me."

"I will not!"

"Amy: you're going to run to him. I can't have you in the middle. You have to stay in the panic room. Can you seriously tell me you don't feel a bit…ah, conflicted right about now?"

Amy opened her mouth to say something. Then she shut it. She opened it again but no sound came out. Finally she shook her head and was able to speak.

"I can't let you do it by yourself."

"Well, you've got to."

"This is like a really shitty movie."

"I know." Peter smiled, giving her a little punch in the arm. "Help me break some glass cases. I need to grab some things. You know, this would be a lot easier if Ginger had let me buy that super stake blessed by St. Michael. But she said 'what'ya gonna use it for? You ain't no _bona fide _vampire killer' How the hell could I know?"

"Hey Peter…" she said.

"Hu?"

Amy smiled, punching him back. "You're _bona fide _to me_."_

"Why thank you, Amy. Now lets see if I still have that flamethrower I bought a few years ago…"

**To be continued…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Fearful Symmetry**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.**

* * *

><p><em>Empty your heart of its mortal dream.<em>

_The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,_

_Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound_

* * *

><p>Vincent gulped. "Yeah, send him up."<p>

He slammed the phone down and grabbed Amy by the arm. "Peter," Amy said, her voice uncertain.

"He's here. He's coming."

Amy stumbled behind him. A section of the wall slid away. Peter gave her a shove. Amy stumbled into a small room.

"I'll come back for you later."

"Don't leave me behind," she begged him.

"Calm down. I'll put on some music, OK?"

"Peter! Don't!" she cried, suddenly afraid she'd be buried alive in that space, no larger than a closet.

The door slid shut. Amy turned and looked at the many small monitors set side by side. She rubbed her arms, feeling cold. It was freezing in the panic room.

Just as Peter had promised, music began to pipe into the room. A soft, 80s ballad.

_I believe it's meant to be, darling  
>I watch when you are sleeping, you belong to me<br>Do you feel the same, am I only dreaming  
>Or is this burning an eternal flame?<br>_  
>Amy groaned. Not the soft rock station, for God's sake. How long was she going to have to stand there listening to that?<p>

The answer: not very long, it seemed. The elevator doors opened. A tall, distinct figure stepped out of it.

_Say my name, sun shines through the rain  
>A whole life so lonely, and then you come and ease the pain<br>I don't want to lose this feeling_

Amy stared at the black and white image. The man lifted his face, staring at the camera lens.

Jerry.

Amy pressed a hand against her mouth.

She was so cold.

#

Peter ran across the apartment. He was ready. He was ready.

Shit! He wasn't ready.

_Chill, Peter. It's just like in the act. Just hold your ground_, he told himself.

He held up the shotgun and tried to steady his aim.

The elevator doors flew open. The man stepped out, hands in his pockets. He raised his head, sniffing the air, then turned towards Peter.

"Hey Pete," he said. "Where's Amy?"

"She's not here."

"Liar," the vampire said, grinning. "Listen, old chap. Are you going to make this easy or hard on yourself? Because I am going to take her with me. The question is: do you want to be torn limb by limb or not?"

Peter trembled. He couldn't even steady the shotgun. Rivulets of sweat dripped down his forehead.

"Come on," Jerry said slowly strolling towards him, past glass cases and displays. "You're a coward. We both know it. Give me the girl and you can live. Hey, you know the drill. Run, hide. Come on. She won't hold it against you."

Peter could feel the air burning in his lungs from the effort. He wanted to put down the weapon. He wanted to run into that elevator and press the down button.

_You don't even know her!_

"Halt! Stop you fiend of the night!" he yelled, reciting a line from his act. He had nothing else to go on but bluster and showmanship. "For if you take one more step I shall crush you, ending your immortal life in a fraction of a minute."

Jerry stopped. He seemed to size him up.

"Well, if you put it that way…" Jerry said taking a step back.

Oh, God. It worked!

"…Naaaaah," Jerry added.

The vampire rushed forward and Peter let out a high-pitched scream as he pressed the trigger. The bullet completely missed Jerry, hitting an antique chalice and the vampire crouched next to the shattered glass, smirking.

"I'm sorry. Was that expensive?" Jerry asked, looking mortified.

He leapt through the air and Peter pressed the trigger again. This time he got him. Jerry fell heavily in front of him, grabbing at his chest and raising a bloodied hand.

"Mmmm," he grumbled. "Do you have anything else?"

Peter swung the shotgun, hitting the vampire on the head with it, employing all his force. He dashed out the room, down a hallway, stumbling into another chamber filled with swords and bladed weapons. A full set of armour stood assembled against a wall. He grabbed its sword.

#

Amy was not cold. She was downright hypothermic. Her limbs hurt and she could not stop shivering. But when she pressed a hand against her forehead she felt it was very warm.

The fever from hell.

Her lips trembled.

Mellow music kept piping into the room.

_And I can't fight this feeling anymore.  
>I've forgotten what I started fighting for.<em>

Amy rubbed her arms and gasped when she saw Peter, looking scared and uncertain, run into a room and pick a sword. Jerry was right behind him.

#

"Oh, not the sword fight!" Jerry said, laughing. "Do you even know how to use that?"

Peter swung a wide arc, almost grazing Jerry's side, but the vampire stepped away just in time.

"Cool," Jerry said.

The vampire dashed to the left, picking a sword from a display on the wall.

"Two can play this game, Mr. Vincent."

Peter clenched his teeth. He tried to keep his feet at a shoulder-wide distance, legs spread apart, as he'd been taught. He parried and Jerry countered his attack, but with no finesse. An amateur's move. Peter slid forward, twisted and tried again. Another parry, but Jerry stepped back, loosing footing.

He kept on point, with an eye towards Jerry's throat. He was finding the flow to this. He kept it simple. No flourishes, a tight defense. Jerry lost more ground, edged towards a corner.

Peter struck again, the sword ripped through the vampire's shirt.

"Feeling good, Peter?" Jerry asked. "'Cause there's something I may have forgotten to mention…"

Jerry stopped completely, his sword in mid-air.

"I can fence too."

Bam! Jerry struck back with a speed that surprised Peter. He was hardly able to block the cut. Then another cut. This one lower. He stumbled back, barely evading the blade. Panicky. He was getting panicky.

His arm was aching. He couldn't keep up.

Jerry swung his arm to the left with brutal force and sent Peter's sword rolling to the floor.

Peter dashed to the other end of the room for dear life, pausing only to pluck a flashlight from the place where he had left it on the floor before heading to meet Jerry.

The vampire was almost upon him. Peter pressed a button and the ultraviolet light hit the monster in the face, burning a trail down the vampire's visage.

Jerry screeched and slammed him against a wall. The force of the impact sent little bits of plaster scattering to the ground. Peter let go of the lamp.

"Owwww," he moaned. He felt the blood trickle down his head.

#

Amy clutched her midsection and fell to the floor, her hands sliding and scratching the monitors in a vain attempt to hold on to something, to stay standing.

She stretched a hand, trying to pry the panic room open. She couldn't.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was having trouble breathing. Her eyes couldn't focus on anything. The lights above her were bright, white blobs of nothing.

Is this how she died? Alone? Squirming upon smooth, cool tiles?

She screamed.

#

Jerry was holding the man up, his long fingers squeezing his neck, enjoying the moment.

The scream tore through his brain, making him snap his head to the right, his movements almost reptilian.

"Amy," he whispered.

He slammed Peter against the wall one more time, then tossed him away like a rag doll. Rubbish. He had more important things to attend to.

Jerry stalked through the penthouse; his boots echoed through the hallways.

He didn't vacillate, headed straight towards her. He could feel her.

Jerry walked into a large room with a fireplace. He paused only for a moment, to rip apart a section of the wall, tearing into pieces a knot of cables. A door opened.

Amy slid to the floor.

He bent down next to her, his fingers brushing her soft hair.

"I'm here," he said.

**To be continued…**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Fearful Symmetry**_

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.**

* * *

><p><em>you said Is<em>

_there anything which_

_is dead or alive more beautiful_

_than my body,to have in your fingers_

_(trembling ever so little)?_

_Looking into_

_your eyes Nothing,i said,except the_

_air of spring smelling of never and forever._

* * *

><p>He cradled her body. He felt her fear and her pain like a mantle covering her. She reeked of death.<p>

Amy gasped. "It hurts so much," she said.

"Births are always painful. But only for a moment. Then it'll be over. You'll begin anew."

"No more," she said. "Let me―"

"It's too late now."

He rose, lifting her to her feet. Since she could not stand by herself, Jerry held the girl up. She felt very thin and immaterial, as though she might turn into mist, escape from him any second.

But the chance for escape had fled.

He sliced his chest with one of his nails and cupped her face, making her look up at him, staring into her eyes.

He pressed her lips against his chest. She struggled. Even in those final, weak moments, she struggled with whatever feeble strength remained in her. Slowly, her lips began to move. Her tongue flicked upon the gash, her lips began to lap the blood. Faster and faster until he felt her arms tense, her teeth graze his skin and she threw her head back―her whole body back―and she let out a loud gasp. Like a diver that breaks the surface.

Amy did not move. She was still, limp against him. Then, as though she had just woken from a dream, her eyes shot open.

Her hands were splayed against his chest and she was frowning, her face tense and curious.

"I can...I can see everything."

He knew what she meant. The room was dark except for the fire burning at one side and the dim lights above the bar, but he had no trouble seeing every little thing in the dark.

"You are better now. Stronger. Faster. You'll never die. Never grow old. This body," he said, one finger sliding through her hair, "will never know disease again."

She pushed away from him. He might have held her, but he let her go, smirking as she struggled towards a nearby chaise longue, falling upon it.

She was weak still, like a butterfly which must dry its wings before its first flight.

"Why have you done this?" she asked.

"And why not?" he replied, sitting next to her, watching her inch away with amusement. As though she could get far.

"Is that how you make all your choices? On a whim?"

She looked at him, shook her head, tried to hide her face behind the cascade of her hair.

"It is so hard, at my age, to find something new. Something exciting. Something to amuse me."

He could not see her eyes, but he felt them on him, sharp as daggers. "Am I to be your newest plaything?"

"You are to be mine," he said simply.

She let out a little, irritated sound and tried to rise from the couch. But he'd grown bored of this coy play. Jerry reached over, pulled her towards him so that she landed upon his lap, straddling him.

"Now," he said, lazily running his hands up her arms. "Where were we last time?"

"I have a very poor memory."

"I'll give you a hint."

His fingers brushed the clasp around her neck, which secured the flowing dress in place. She raised her hands, stilling his own, then shoving him away and standing up.

" You are a monster! You killed Ed and all those other people!"

"I did not kill Ed," Jerry said, shaking his head. " You killed him. As for those other people...why, I think you and Peter also killed them."

"You feed on humans."

"All I do is ensure my survival."

"You have manipulated me! You drugged me! You ―"

"And you were willing and eager," Jerry cocked his head to the right. "Even now, you're trying to play the outraged victim part, but it's a lie. We both know it."

"I am ―"

"You can not lie to me," he said, slowly walking around her. "I am part of you now. I understand you. I know what you are feeling. Trust me: it's not anger."

She took a swipe at him, sharp nails tracing a light line across his chest.

"...well, maybe a little anger," he conceded, smiling.

He encircled Amy with his arms, swooping down for a kiss, lips pressing violently against her own. He was demanding, hands coaxing sensations as he brushed her skin, ran his fingers through her hair and tossed her upon a rug, by the fire.

#

Amy sank into the plush rug.

And she thought _Stop it! Stopstopstop, _but she kissed him back.

She kissed him back even though he was a monster. Even though he was Death. Even though his eyes were dark pools of emptiness and even though she realized it was wrong to want this...even then she kissed him.

There was all this anger and sadness and pain and desire curled inside her and if she didn't do _something_ she would collapse into tears; she would leap from the window of this tall building and dash upon the pavement.

And she wanted to live. Because youth demands life and despite her horror she wanted to remain, she wanted to _stay _and she was still, breathing there, alive and terrified.

Her mouth was bruised from his kisses.

_Please God, let this stay, _ she thought, and she didn't even know what she was talking about, thinking, feeling. So she kissed him. Kissed him beyond reason.

"You are too pretty," he whispered. "Like a line in a poem I read once, when I was young."

"You were never young," she replied. She didn't want to think of him as human. She didn't want to think they had something in common...that they'd have something in common...that one day...

He had taken off his shirt.

_I'm still here. I'm not dead. I'm human,_ she thought. She wanted to believe that.

Amy raised her hands and she brushed the clasp of her dress. It slid off her shoulders, like water.

He gave her a questioning look, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

"Are you mine?"

"Yes."

She hid her face in the crook of his neck. She threaded her fingers through his hair.

He kissed her.

And she was alive. She was really alive.

#

Peter winced. He touched his head and felt something wet and unpleasant. Blood. It trickled down his shirt. But no puncture marks on his neck he could feel. The bastard had bashed his head, but did not bite him.

"Ugh," he muttered, trying to stand up.

He almost fell flat on his face. He felt like he'd fought a boxing match.

Peter closed his hands into a fist.

"Fucker," he whispered.

_Amy_ .

He needed to find her. Peter managed to limp his way out of the room, grabbing his sword from the floor and using it as a makeshift cane. He stopped in front of a large display glass case. A Victorian vampire killing kit lay inside. He bashed the glass with the hilt of the sword and pulled out the two stakes inside the kit.

"Let's do this old school."

**To be continued...**

* * *

><p>Author's note: So the question now is: Shall Amy be saved by Peter? Or does Jerry get to stay with her?<strong><br>**


	11. Chapter 11

**Fearful Symmetry**

**By Hedge Labyrinth**

**AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.**

* * *

><p><em>The evening puts its lips to throat and brow <em>

_And swears what it has sworn before _

_To others and will swear to more. _

_The evening has its arms around us now. _

* * *

><p>He slowed down and held one of the stakes tightly as he entered the room. The fire was burning high. It was dark. He brushed a hand over the light switch and the expanse of the whole room was illuminated.<p>

He saw Amy. She lay upon the rug, her hair fanned out. Her dress was bunched around her thighs. Jerry was nowhere in sight.

"Amy," he muttered, rushing towards her.

She raised her head, blinked at him.

"Peter?" she said, her voice wavering. "You're bleeding."

"Yeah, well, he beat me up pretty bad," he muttered, pulling her to her feet and into a hug. "Where is he?"

"I'm not sure."

The girl wrapp ed her arms around his neck. He could hear her agitated, scared breathing as she clutched him.

"I'm scared."

"I'm also freaked out about the idea of a hungry vampire running around my place."

"No...not that."

"What then?"

She shoved him back. Peter stumbled and managed to keep his balance.

Amy placed her hands behind her back and looked at him in horror.

"You're bleeding."

"We went through that part already."

"No..." she shook her head. "You don't understand."

"Amy..."

She was sobbing. She raised her hands.

Peter saw the long, wicked nails and understood.

"I can't help myself."

Peter's mouth fell open. Amy dropped to her knees, hugging herself.

He extended a hand, trying to reach for her.

She raked the floor with her nails and looked up at him, eyes dark.

"Peter, you have to run," she whispered.

He did. Peter hurried out of the room, trying to ignore the pain in one of his legs, a stake firmly gripped in his right hand, the sword in the other.

She had changed. He'd gotten to her. He had to kill the bastard.

Peter stumbled into the library. Dozens of book cases lined from top to bottom with precious volumes occupied almost every inch of available wall space. Ginger had freaked out when she saw the price tag for the customized, sliding bookcases which could change the configuration of the room, but it had been worth the price.

In the middle of the library there was an imposing Greek bust of a man with a tiny pair of fangs curving beneath his lips.

He loved that room. It was the most awesome one in the whole penthouse. Until someone turned off the lights. Peter swung around, stake ready.

"Show yourself, asshole!"

"Gladly"

A kick to the back and Peter stumbled and fell. The sword scattered away, but he still had the stake. He rolled over and saw a shirtless Jerry standing over him.

"How do you like her now?" he said, picking Peter by the collar of his shirt.

"You bastard!"

"I think she's exquisite. You know what's the problem? She's feeling a little peckish right about now. I think she needs a snack."

"Bugger off. I'm not takeout."

Peter slammed the stake against the vampire's arm, driving it through with his full force. Jerry released him and hollered in anger as he tried to pry the stake out.

Peter quickly got hold of the marble bust and bashed the vampire's head in, feeling gleeful that he was returning the favour.

It was enough to murder any man, twice over.

Nevermind.

Jerry stood up, blood and brain matter dripping down his chest, eyes black pits of anger.

"You are a nuisance, Mr. Vincent," he muttered, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand.

"Haven't even gotten started," Peter replied.

With a quick push he slid one of the bookcases in Jerry's direction. The things was huge, but the mechanism was sound and it rolled swiftly in the vampire's direction and Jerry was so surprised he had no time to move from its path. The bookcase pinned him against the wall with a brutal slam.

Peter engaged the lock mechanism, securing the bookcase to its current spot and watched as Jerry flailed be hind the weight of the wooden contraption.

"Barbeque time," Peter muttered, finally grabbing the pissing flamethrower which he'd left in the library before all of this had started, primarily because it was too damn heavy. But heavy or not, it was about to come in handy.

Peter raised the hose, put his thumb next to the activation switch...

...and was blown back when the dam book case seemed to explode, pieces of wood and books flying all over the place as Jerry busted himself free and landed in front of him.

"Barbeque, hu?" Jerry said tossing him to the floor and grabbing the flamethrower. "Let's see if this old thing works."

It did. Jerry pressed the trigger. The valve opened and the pressurized, flammable liquid began to flow, igniting into a bright arc. Peter rolled out of the gun nozzle's path.

"Jesus!" he cried out.

"Well, what do you know? It actually works."

Jerry pressed the trigger again. Peter rolled for dear life. The spurt of fire did not reach him, but it did illuminate a corner of the library. He saw Amy standing there, her eyes wild and her face feral.

"Jerry," she said.

"She's here," Jerry said smiling. He tossed the flamethrower away, stomping on it as though it were a crumpled can of soda. "Come to me, Amy."

She did. In fact, she moved so quickly she seemed to glide across the floor. She threw her arms around Jerry's neck and kissed him. Jerry's hands travelled down the front of her dress, a palm against her nipple.

Amy began to lick the blood that marred Jerry's chest.

Peter winced.

Amy slowly turned her head, looking at him with a distant expression, as though they had not been introduced yet.

"Here, Amy," Jerry said pulling her away and placing his hands on her shoulders. "Here's a tasty morsel."

She licked her lips. They were stained crimson. Peter slid back, bumping against a book case. He had lost one stake, but he still had the other. He pulled it free, showing it to her.

"Don't get any closer, Amy," he warned her.

"You wouldn't hurt me, would you?" she asked. "What's the matter? Don't you like me anymore, Peter?"

Peter swallowed.

**To be continued... **


	12. Chapter 12

****Fearful Symmetry****

****By Hedge Labyrinth****

****AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.****

* * *

><p><em>My face turned pale, a deadly pale. <em>

_My legs refused to walk away, _

_And when she looked what could I ail _

_My life and all seemed turned to clay. _

* * *

><p>Amy smiled, lips so red and desirable.<p>

"Don't you want me anymore? Put that down and let me kiss you."

There was no doubt in Peter's mind that he wanted her, even if she had turned into a monster. But he was also unwilling to become a midnight snack for the teenage vampire.

_This won't end prettily_, he thought, already picturing his guts spilled upon the floor.

"Amy, I will defend myself if I have to," he said.

"No," she said, softly. "No you won't."

His hands trembled. She grabbed the stake and pulled it from his grasp. He let her. He couldn't hurt her. She was still Amy, still a girl.

"Kill him," Jerry said.

Peter looked into her eyes, trying to find a fraction of the lost child he'd gotten to know and there, under dark waters, bobbed knowledge. Her eyes grew blue and soft.

Her lips trembled.

"Peter," she whispered.

"Kill. Him."

"No!" Amy whirled around. "Never!"

"Then I'll have to do it," Jerry growled.

"I won't let you."

She placed herself squarely in front of Peter, blocking the older vampire's path, but Jerry pushed her aside. She clung to him, her nails digging into his flesh. Jerry pried Amy off him and shoved her away.

Jerry bent down, hauling Peter up so he could look at him square in the eyes.

"You've inconvenienced me a great deal. Anyway, want to beg for your life?"

"Go to hell," Peter spat out, attempting to punch him.

Jerry caught his fist and pressed down on it. Peter gasped and heard his own bones crushing under the tremendous strength of the vampire.

There was a distracting little click.

"Let him be."

They both turned their heads.

Amy had gotten hold of the tattered flamethrower. It still worked. She was clutching the nozzle. A tiny flame danced at its end.

"You're going to try and kill me, Amy?" Jerry asked. "Over this guy?"

There was a jarring noise of disappointment in his voice.

"I wouldn't," Amy said, turning the nozzle towards herself. "I'd kill myself."

_Wow_. Peter's mouth dropped open at that. Now that was an unexpected move.

"Stake. Beheading. Fire. Those are the methods, right Peter?"

Peter could only nod, dumbly.

"Suicide," Jerry said, smirking. "You wouldn't."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Let him go and we don't have to find out."

"Drastic, much?" Jerry said.

Amy adjusted a dial and the flame grew in size.

"Why does he matter?" Jerry asked.

"I couldn't save Ed. But I can save him. That…" she fixed her gaze on Jerry. "…that matters."

Jerry laughed. He pulled Peter's arm, twisting it so hard Peter was forced to fall on his knees. The vampire grit his teeth.

"I'm starting to get a little jealous here. More reason to kill the bastard."

"He dies, I die."

"What makes you think I'd care?" Jerry yelled, sputtering.

"You are inside me now. I am inside you. I know about the loneliness. The anger. The boredom. I know how old and tired you feel."

#

Jerry frowned. The nerve of this girl. He felt the sudden desire to teach her a well earned lesson, to bash her pretty head against the floor with all his force and then stake her himself.

He didn't need anyone. He had never needed anyone. Much less a wisp of a girl, fragile as glass.

When Jerry had turned he'd already been angry and disillusioned. Living through battles and the plague could do that to you. He remembered wandering through streets littered with corpses, the foul air stinking of putrefaction, stumbling down slick steps and just laying there, half-dead, staring at the night sky; hating the moon, wishing he could pluck it from the sky, wishing he could burn the stars.

Something in him would always harbor the fury of those days. In the same way, he knew Amy, having turned young, before life had a chance to sink its claws into her flesh, would remain a little guileless in the kernel of her heart. Vampirism would preserve her like a pressed flower.

But to hell with her innocence, with her attempt...at what? Humanity? Friendship?

He really wanted to kill her, but not before murdering Peter in the most wicked way he could conceive. Boiled alive, maybe. You can take the boy out of the Middle Ages, but you can't quite take the Middle Ages out of the boy.

Jerry smirked, eager for spilled blood.

_Motherfucking Peter_ . He probably hated that little bastard more than he had ever hated any other man for the simple fact that he had a hold of a little fraction of Amy. Jerry wanted it all. Every little piece that was her.

It was not a tender feeling. It was a savage need to have himself _something_, just like that moment when he lay dying and wanted to rip the moon into shreds. He wanted her like he had wanted that moon.

He had grown jaded and bored, yes. But he hadn't grown lonely. Liar. The affront of this little whore who opened herself to him, then threatened to pull away and he was no dog who could have a piece of meat dangled before his eyes. Like a game.

And he knew damn well she wouldn't have done the same for him. She wouldn't have put herself between Peter and Jerry; she would not have saved Jerry. It fucking pissed him off.

He was going to kill Peter.

Maybe he'd kill her first.

"Come here," he ordered, releasing Peter from his grip, but giving him a kick for good measure.

#

Amy placed the flamethrower quietly on the floor. She walked towards him and raised her fingertips, brushing his face.

"Shhhh," she said looking into his eyes, which were filled with the burnt ruins of decades past. "I'm with you."

His eyes narrowed, turned so dark and so furious she thought he might break her neck.

"I'm here," she repeated, like one might to a child.

His expression did not soften. He did not reciprocate with a tender embrace. But he grabbed her hand, his fingers firmly knitting with her own and they walked out of the library, into the elevator and out into the night which embraced them like an anxious lover.

**To be continued, with the final chapter...**


	13. Chapter 13

****Fearful Symmetry****

****By Hedge Labyrinth****

****AU: Roles are reversed. Amy is the one who finds out Jerry is a vampire.****

* * *

><p><em>In that book which is <em>

_My memory . . . _

_On the first page _

_That is the chapter when _

_I first met you _

_Appear the words . . . _

_Here begins a new life _

* * *

><p>Peter saw her one last time. It was two days after the incident in the penthouse. He'd dialed her number and she, shockingly, answered the cellphone.<p>

They met near the entrance of a casino, the pink neon glow from the signs above them flashing on and off like a dull warning. She had changed the flowing, white dress for jeans and a t-shirt. She looked the picture of normality as she smiled and brushed his arm.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey," he said.

She looked down, glancing at her sneakers. Peter decided to dispense with the formalities and pushed a little cooler into her arms.

"A parting gift. Since you said you were...ah, leaving."

Amy peeked inside the cooler. "Is that...?"

"Blood. Not a lot," Peter said. "It's mine. Consider it a donation from your friendly blood bank."

"Peter, that's so..."

"Weird?"

"Yeah," Amy said nodding.

"You might need it."

"Thanks."

Peter ran a hand through his hair. "Amy, it'll change you. It will. I don't want you...hell, you could stay in Vegas. With me. That panic room is the perfect place to hide a vampire and I could always..."

"...bleed into a little dish for me?" she asked.

"I suppose," he said. "It sounds lame, no?"

"It's not lame," she said. "It's just not possible."

He smiled. He'd known the answer. He thought he should try, though. No harm in trying.

"You better head back," Peter said amicably. "He's waiting for you."

"Hu?" Amy asked.

"Across the street."

Peter did not need to look to know he was there. He could feel the vampire's eyes burrowing into him. He had been watching the whole exchange.

Amy took a few steps away from Peter. She turned to look over her shoulder and smiled at Peter. Then she crossed the street, almost sprinted, colliding into Jerry's embrace.

Peter was watching two creatures from myth and he thought he could feel the distant forest pressing into the city, shadows of old pooling around the bright neon, the howl of wolves in the distance. The old vampire and the new one. The pale, soft curve of the girl's body contrasting with the dark, stiff lines of the man's frame. Like a story. Like a nightmare. Like a dream.

Peter didn't know if he'd love her. But he'd keep her safe. He'd be there, constant.

That was more than many could offer. Certainly more than Peter had ever been able to offer to anyone. And maybe, slim as the chance was, maybe it would be alright.

He saw her lift her face towards Jerry, absorbed by him.

Then, they were gone.

#

He was taking his sweet time. Amy should get a fake ID. Something that said 21 on it so Jerry didn't have to buy beer for them through eternity.

Eternity.

She looked in the rear-view mirror, at the back seat of the car where the little cooler sat, like a postcript from another life. Jerry had laughed when he'd showed it to her and she said, happily, that perhaps they could do this kind of thing. Take blood without killing. Just tell me how you feel in a month, he'd told her. She didn't know what he meant, but she supposed a centuries-old vampire would know more about feeding and survival than she might. Hell, by the end of the year she might be gleefully chomping through small, dusty towns.

Amy didn't want to think about that.

She turned on the radio. A song filled the car:

_He doesn't look a thing like Jesus  
>But he talks like a gentlemen<br>Like you imagined when you were young_

She shifted in her seat and peered out the window, towards distant Las Vegas. She could always run back to Peter. He'd welcome her. Vegas. Place of night. So many bare throats, so many drunkards stumbling through the streets into oblivion, so many chances. She might even bump into Charley. Wouldn't he be surprised?

_We're burning down the highway skyline  
>On the back of a hurricane that started turning<br>When you were young  
>When you were young<em>

Maybe she should just drive off without Jerry, but not back to Peter. Purchase a map from a convenience store and trace a new path. New York. Seattle. Pick a coast.

Amy took a deep breath and she wondered if she'd ever be as tired and weary as Jerry was, deep down inside.

Maybe she could just step out of the vehicle and leave it all behind. Walk through the desert until the wind and the sun burned her to ashes and those ashes mixed with the sand.

She chewed on her lower lip, gripping the steering wheel.

The song ended.

The door opened and Jerry slid in. He tossed a six pack of beer in the back, placed a brown paper bag on the floor and handed her a Twinkie.

"Really?" she asked.

"What?" he replied, ripping a package open. " They didn't have any apples."

Amy shook her head.

"Are you going to let me drive now?" he asked, mouth full.

"In a hundred years, pal."

"I'm holding you up to that."

He meant it. She wondered if she'd kill him before the century had ended or if he'd kill her. Or whether they'd both be staked by some super-duper, enhanced vampire killer. Maybe they'd sit in an empty diner, eating Twinkies, because that was the only thing left after some nuclear holocaust destroyed humanity and all of Earth was ruled by roaches. They'd dine on roaches and Twinkies by candlelight.

Jesus.

She looked at him as he brushed his hands against his shirt, stray crumbs falling to the floor.

"Come here," he said, as though he could read her thoughts.

Maybe he could. Connection and all. She couldn't. But she could feel him when he wasn't there. It was a bit creepy.

Jerry reached a hand over to her and pulled her into a kiss.

He tasted sweet.

She embraced him and she knew he could smell her uncertainty.

Amy slowly pulled back, then hesitated. She planted a kiss on the corner of his lips before twisting the car keys, ready to hit the road.

His mouth curled into a smile.

She turned off the radio. The car jumped onto the highway, beams high though she could see in the dark. The road was a black, never ending ribbon and far from the city one could easily count the stars.

They passed a sign that said "Leaving Nevada" and the Fury zoomed off into the night.

**THE END**


End file.
